


smells like teen spirit

by invictaria



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, But also, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Missing Moments, The X Factor Era, being nineteen and in love, being seventeen and in love, seven colors for seven memories, unrequited Ziam bc i'm the worst and Ziam is always life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictaria/pseuds/invictaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still, the first time Harry pressed his fingertips against the naked wall of <i>their</i> living room, all the new furniture still in its boxes, just like their clothes and any other kind of belonging they got there, Louis' incredulous voice calling <i>ohi Haz, Haz, you've got to see the kitchen, it's huge, come here</i>, the reality of it all hit him really hard, <i>it's you and me, you and me, always you and me</i>, and it felt like a brilliant supernova exploding in his chest.</p><p>(seven steps/memories from the beginning of Harry and Louis' relationship, associated with a color.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	smells like teen spirit

# 1 - blue  
  
Despite what people think, despite what people say, they actually didn't had sex during the X Factor. And it's not like Harry hadn't thought about it, about Louis' lips and hands and hips and _whatwoulditbelike_ , but he'd never had sex with a boy before (he’d never had sex, _period_ ) and those fantasies were so very distant from reality, so very private and blurry and distorted and childish, in their own way (because he was so, so young and immature and inexperienced but mostly _amazed_ by everything that was _Louis_ ), that the idea of people talking about them that way, obsessively studying every video and every photo, looking for something in their eyes and in their fleeting touches to cheapen them, to just prove a point and say _I told you so, they're so gay for each other, they're so embarassing_ , makes him feel more exposed and upset than a thousand cameras shoved into his face.  
  
# 2 - white  
  
The closest thing to truth among all the absurd allegations was the fact they actually shared a bed. At that time, Harry wasn't used to lie in bed with someone else: Louis was still bigger than him (barely), and they'd sleep with his cold fingers always sneaking under Harry's shirt, giving him goosebumps everywhere, and Harry's nose pressed against Louis’ collarbones, breathing in his scent and trying to snuggle closer; it was no Gucci's _Guilty_ because, back then, they didn't have much money to waste nor manliness to prove, but it was good nonetheless, strong and calming and familiar in a strange way, like everything about him.  
  
# 3 - pink  
  
When they got out of the show, it felt like the end of the world; and it wasn't just about Louis, about never seeing him again once Harry got back to Holmes Chapel and his old life, it was also about the boys, about Niall's warm hugs and Liam's crinkled-eyed smile and Zayn's quiet comfort, it was about a sense of belonging and the fear of never being able to sing again without four other voices backing up his own.  
In the backstage, Louis held him tight, whispering against his sweaty temple _it doesn't change anything, love, it doesn't change a single thing, please don't cry, please please please, i can't stand to see you cry_ ; Louis’ hands were trembling over his wet cheeks but his voice was steady, calm, working like magic over Harry's crazy heartbeat, while he collected every single tear with his lips.  
And suddenly, those lips were against his own, chapped and warm and thin, and Louis moved them slowly, like he was afraid to scare Harry off, to upset him more; for a moment, it felt like all the air rushed out of Harry’s lungs while someone was squeezing his heart _tighttighttight_ , his chest cramping up painfully, becoming too small to keep everything from spilling out, and _it's our first kiss, it's our first kiss and this is our last night, it's our first kiss and it tastes like my own tears_ ; but then he felt Louis' thumbs caressing a spot just behind his lobes, so very tenderly and slowly, and the pain dulled out: Harry remembers opening his mouth like he was coming back from underwater, and the only thing he could do was stealing some oxygen from Louis, who let him take it with a soft sigh, like he had actually waited for this, like he was willing to share from the very beginning.  
“I'm gonna call you all the time, i'm gonna call you so much you won't even miss me, i'm gonna call so much you'll get sick of me, i swear,” Louis had whispered hours later, pressing Harry against a wall, tongue tender against his bruised mouth; their suitcases were already packed and their room looked oddly empty, but Harry couldn't focus on anything more than the tingling sensation coming from Louis' hands on his bare skin.  
  
# 4 - yellow  
  
It really didn't come out as a surprise to anyone when they choose to share while the others got each an apartment on their own: they talked about that all the time even _before_ , back on the X Factor House, when they were _just friends_ , planning lovely brunches with their families and endless parties with their mates and lazy, intimate afternoons in bed with tea and cuddles; still, the first time Harry pressed his fingertips against the naked wall of _their_ living room, all the new furniture still in its boxes, just like their clothes and any other kind of belonging they got there, Louis' incredulous voice calling _ohi Haz, Haz, you've got to see the kitchen, it's huge, come here_ , the reality of it all hit him really hard, _it's you and me, you and me, always you and me_ , and it felt like a brilliant supernova exploding in his chest.  
And apparently, the new turn took by their relationship didn't surprise anyone either: when Niall walked on them kissing during a break of a recording session, instead of freaking out like Harry expected, he laughed loudly and said: “About fucking time, lads, i swear i couldn't stand the staring and the constant awe in your fucking faces anymore.”  
Later, when they were sprawled on a sofa just outside the recording room waiting for Louis to finish his parts, Harry's head in Niall's lap, Niall tugged on his hair gently and said “I'm really happy for you Haz, the closer i got to your adoring expression when you look at him it's when i have a full plate of me dad cooking in front of me, so it must feel pretty awesome to finally have him, yeah,” and it was so illogical and weird and _Niall-ish_ to compare them to food that he could only nod, muffling a laugh against his thigh.  
  
# 5 - black  
  
Harry had been so caught up in his own happiness that at first he didn't notice anything, not the excessive amount of cigarettes Zayn smoked everyday, nor the sudden, tangible distance between him and Liam: it was like Zayn, without anyone's permission, oddly blossomed into this beautiful, sharp creature all eyes and angles that old, sweet Liam, to his own confused heartbreak, didn't know how to handle anymore, especially since he was all caught up in Danielle for his own part; still, it became _all_ painfully clear that one time they all went out together and Liam brought her with them, a giant, goofy smile on his face and their fingers loosely intertwined, and at that sight Zayn's face fell so fast that it was like seeing clouds shifting in the sky and suddently obscuring the sun: the only thing that HArry could think about was _oh._  
“Please, don't,” Zayn had said when Harry followed him out for a smoke for the hundred time and tried to _ask_ ; he didn't even give Harry time to properly reply before adding “Please don't look so sad and concerned, it's alright, yeah, it's not that bad. And it happens to a lot of friends but it doesn't have to be a thing. I know where we stand and i know what my place is and it's not like we are like you and Lou, alright, it's not like you and Lou are some sort of ordinary thing, anyway. And you know what, it's not like fucking everybody always gets what they want when they fucking want it, okay, not in real life.” And it was so, _so_ much, _too_ much bare emotion, Zayn’s voice so rough, his frown so pronounced while he stubbornly fixed his gaze on the floor, that the only way to stop his rambling Harry could think about was enveloping him in his arms, pressing Zayn's mouth against his own collarbone; it was the first time Zayn opened himself up in so many words to him, and the first time Harry actually felt so completely at loss in front of someone else's feelings: so they stayed like that, all tangled up in each other, for a long time, silence filling al those spaces they couldn't reach with their hands.  
Harry still doesn't know how Louis found out about Zayn, mostly because Louis' and Zayn's relationship is always been the quietest and most private among them all, despite all the buzz around the _constant mischief_ and the _mystery machine_ and the _bus 1_ tattoo and just being _partners in crime_ : they'd always been similar in the substance, feelings and thoughts and reactions, but so different in the expression of it all, and that alone has been enough to explain the ease, the deep intimacy between them, the unconditional understanding from the very beginning; but one afternoon, right after they'd just woken up from a nap, fever-hot skin and fingers lazily tangled up in his curls, Louis said: “I'm really glad, you know, because we're in this together and you didn't mess me up too badly and you actually feel for me, too, even if you didn't have to and i think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me”. And Harry, lightheaded and dizzy as he was after such a speach, couldn't ignore the _thanks for not breaking my heart like that_ which was left unsaid.  
  
# 6 - red  
  
It mostly felt like a slow burn: they broke through the charts and the radios and the televisions and the internet, being everywhere any time of the day, starting to see the top of the world, and all Harry can remember clearly is being constantly, acutely hyperaware of the smallest, lightest touch of Louis’ fingertips through layers and layers of clothing, of the weight of Louis’ gaze on his mouth and the curve of his back whenever they'd went out, of Louis’ peculiar scent on his own skin whenever they'd sit down for an interview; Harry'd never felt that way before (he has never felt that way _after_ , if _now_ can be considerate an appropriate _after_ ), like someone _owned_ him in the gentlest and most respectful meaning of the word, having him whole with his mere presence. Sometimes that feeling was so powerful and intoxicating it was like all his sensory receptors were on fire due too much stimulation, and all that was left was a solid ache, stashed carefully between his lungs and his ribcage (and sometimes it still feels like it).  
So, the first time they had sex it was in their new home and it wasn't planned; it was not like they decided to wait for a particular reason, nor like they didn't want to _get there_ with each other, but so much was going on around them and it was never the right moment, the right amount of time for something so important to just happen and be how it was supposed to be (slow careful romantic), until it simply was: the hard wood floor of their living room felt uncomfortable and a little cold against his back, but Louis's hands on the back of thighs felt _hothothot_ , just like the breath against his cheeks, just like the mouth against his own, while Louis’ murmured _i love you i love you i love you so much_ like a prayer, and stupid as it sounds, the space between Louis’ arms had been the only comfort Harry had needed (he still needs).  
  
# 7 - green  
  
After he chocked on their first live performance of _What Makes You Beautiful_ , Harry could barely blink, afraid he'd burst into tears right there on the stage, so he'd smiled and stood very still, head down and trembling hands behind his back, leaving all the talking to the boys. At home, he went on twitter and read what felt like a thousand of nasty comments about it, and in a way it was no surprise at all, but in another it was like choking all over again, for so many different reasons ( _my god they're such a bluff what was that did he really had an ashtma attack on stage lol what a shit of a singer please it's all about the curls and the dimples_ ); “This is so stupid, i mean, why would you look this shit up and why would you believe it,” Louis asked after, holding Harry’s wrist and taking his phone, a deep frown on his face as he scrolled the timeline, and since Harry didn't how to explain it ( _because if they say shit like that there's gotta be a reason, right, people don't go around saying shit about you if you don't deserve it, so i'm giving them a reason to say shit and i don't want to, i don't want to be the one who brings us down, i don't want to fail_ you) he just fixed his gaze on the floor and breathed. Then Louis said:  
  
"You can't do this, you know, you can't, because it's pointless and we can't protect you from it all, _i_ can't protect you and it makes me so mad i just want to smash your phone and punch something; this shit is not about you, ok, it's about _them_ and what they are _not_ and what you actually _are_ and they're jealous, alright, they're jealous because you are a star and you are _so_ bright, you are not an unreachble asshole stuffed full of sarcasm and despair, bored out of his mind from just breathing and existing, you are _young_ and _sweet_ and _talented_ and you _care_ and you get _emotional_ and it's fine, ok, it's more than fine, actually it's the best part of being in a band with someone like you: you're so talented and you care so much and you get emotional about stuff and then stupid songs like this start to get an _actually meaning_ , and i don't want you to get hurt for being the very best thing, ok, so fuck them and fuck everything, be happy because you really got it all and no one can really compare to you."  
  
And Harry felt so overwhelmed he started to cry for real, cheeks flushed and blood roaring in his ears as Louis tugged him closer, holding him proper and laughing because _you’re such a sap, love, there’s no need to cry._  
And how someone could simply bring your heart to stretch, along with your lungs and your entire chest and every other muscle in your body, thinning and thinning like paper because all the room is taken by all the feelings you have inside, all the love you feel pumping through your veins, all the adoration you feel chocking you like the biggest lump in your throat, just for _being there_ , just for being themselves when you thought _that's it, that's it, i can't feel for you more than what i feel right now, i just can't because it's too much and my body is too small and it's not built for this kind of thing_ , is something that never ceased to amaze him.  


**Author's Note:**

> you know about how we all like to have our little headcanons when it comes to these boys?  
> For me, this fic is about that. I collected a lot of fragments/scribblings over the years, about them and their relationship and what i would like to be true... none of them can be called a proper story, because they're too random and generic, but maybe like this they can be read as a nice patchwork of love.  
> I'm sorry if there's too many mistakes, but i don't have a beta and english is not my first language :(  
> Thank you for reading, <3


End file.
